Depressed Clones with Stupid Nicknames
by Twilight Joltik
Summary: After overhearing a harsh statement from her lifelong hero, Lucina realizes that Super Smash Bros isn't as fun as she thought it would be, and she begins to miss her home and her friends almost overwhelmingly. Of course, she isn't the only person who feels alone, and a kindred spirit soon emerges. One with a very similar sense of humor to her. Romance-type one-shot.


_**AN- Look, I'm writing romance. About my new, made-up OTP. Also, this is kind of a successor to my other Lucina one-shot, Legends of Ylisse, BTW. I only own my own ideas, as you know, and not Lucina or any other characters So, thank you and enjoy! –Twilight Joltik**_

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_Depressed Clones with Stupid Nicknames_

_By Twilight Joltik_

_Dear Owain,_

_I hope you and the others are doing well. Robin and I are alright. "Super Smash Brothers", as they call it, is a fight that would even intimidate Feroxi, but somehow no one is injured. It's a welcome change of pace, to be fighting without fear of death, but I miss you all just the same. _

_You would love it here. The mansion where we stay is filled with legendary warriors from many worlds. Some of them I underestimated due to their appearance; for instance, a pink puff with big eyes called "Kirby", but even the most inconspicuous here are worthy foes. _

_I think of you after almost every fight. When I hear others discussing their battles, they often refer to specific techniques of theirs by name. For instance, a woman named Zelda uses an attack called "Din's Fire", and a swordsman (who, might I add, is similar in stature to Kirby) named Meta Knight uses a "Shuttle Loop". It reminds me so much of you and your attack names._

_However, I think you would be the most interested in two of the fighters here; the Radiant Hero you so often refer to and our ancestor, Lord Marth. I have attempted to tell Lord Ike of your admiration for him, but I haven't found the time. Lord Marth, however, I have been able to mention you to, and given how soon after he stated he was "Proud of how far his bloodline has come", I believe you left a good impression on him. _

_I miss you and the others very much. Please give everyone my regards. _

_Yours truly, _

_Lucina_

The Ylissian princess finished writing the letter to her cousin and sealed the parchment in an envelope. Sealing it with red wax imprinted with the Brand of the Exalt, she wrote his name in large, looping script on the envelope and set it on her desk, next to her letters to Inigo, her mother, Gerome, and Cynthia. Of course, she had no way to get them to her loved ones, but writing out words meant for them made the crippling homesickness she'd felt since her arrival ease a bit.

Blowing out the candle on the desk in her room, she made her way to her bed. In the dark, her loneliness felt even stronger. The room was hers and hers alone, which many other fighters had expressed jealously over. She, however, couldn't help but wonder if she would be happier in a room with other fighters. Perhaps it would have helped her make some closer bonds here, and that would make her feel less alone.

She remembered the ecstasy she'd felt upon receiving the invitation, and how in awe she'd been upon arrival. Upon meeting her lifelong hero and ancestor, she'd been so joyous she truly believed she would love the place. She didn't only want to learn from Lord Marth, she'd wanted to be friends with him. Reaching out to anyone she could, she tried to make bonds that would last a lifetime, just like the ones she knew back home. For a few days, she thought it was possible this place would be a second home to her, and she was as happy as she'd ever been.

And then she accidentally overheard a conversation between Lord Marth and Ike through a cracked door. Her ancestor said something about a man named Roy, a former fighter, it seemed, and a friend to him. He lamented the fact that Roy had not returned, and confessed to the other hero that he would have rather Roy returned than Lucina arrived.

Those words, though she was sure they weren't meant maliciously or in ill will, burned like an Arcfire tome and stuck in her mind. She couldn't think she was wanted or needed in this place when her hero had rejected her. She relayed her concerns to Robin, but he simply assured her that Marth surely hadn't meant it, and she likely either misheard something or heard it out of context.

While she had tried to get over it and make other friends, it seemed Marth's sentiments were widely shared. Link and Pit were nice enough, but they seemed to, at least unconsciously, shrug off her attempts to be better friends with them. The other women, particularly Zelda, Peach, and Samus, were already so close that it was nigh impossible to infiltrate their inner circle. Rosalina and Palutena were a bit more open, but something about their almost divine nature made them feel unapproachable. And Robin… Well, he was a bit too close to Marth and Ike, who were tainted in her mind by that conversation.

It was the same everywhere. People were just a little too close knit, a little too distant, a little too imposing. This place wasn't anything like her home, where she was welcomed by all and surrounded by friendly faces. She was almost as lonely as she had been when the world was of ruin and bloodshed. Though it was more peaceful here, she also knew a proper family, a proper home, something to miss.

And she missed everything about Ylisse. She missed the way the air smelled, the wildflowers one could sometimes catch in the forest if you were lucky, the small villages that were always so grateful for their help when they chased away Risen, the way she could know with such certainty that her father and Robin would figure out a way to save them, no matter how tense the situation. However, the thing she missed most of all was every member of her father's army. She missed everything about them; Inigo's cocky smile, Gerome's sullen presence, Cynthia's dramatic entrances, the shrieking arpeggios that would come from Brady's tent far too early in the morning, Frederick's obsessive caretaking, the squeaking of Kjelle polishing her armor for the thousandth time, Lissa's bright laughter that was all too often punctuated with a snort, the sound of Owain breaking firewood into bits with his precious Missletainn, and everything and everyone else. Tears threatened to form at the corners of her eyes just thinking of them.

As she laid in bed, struggling not to weep from thoughts of homesickness and crippling loneliness, she soon realized she had no chance of getting to sleep in such a state. Grabbing the candle from her desk, she struck a match (such a convenient innovation of this place!) and lit it, holding it as she made her way down silently down the hall where the majority of the bedrooms were. She soon found herself in the library. The place was oversaturated with dust to the point where she had to cough every time she lifted a volume from its shelf. While certainly not the most pleasant place in the realm, it was quiet, and a book would surely help chase away her worries. Of course, as she turned around to sit down in an armchair, she felt the distinct thump of flesh hit her forehead. Her cry of shock and the sudden movement made her candle flicker out.

"Please forgive me," she apologized profusely, taking a step back. "I had no idea anyone else was here this late!"

A dry snort of laughter came from the figure. "No one else does either."

Lucina could not place the voice, though it sounded familiar, and distinctly masculine. She strained her eyes in the dark, but she could barely make out the silhouette. "I don't believe we've met before. I'm Lucina," she greeted as she extended her hand.

"Oh yes, Martwo," the shadowed man replied with another soft chuckle, either ignoring or not seeing her hand. "No, we haven't met."

"Martwo?" she repeated. "As in, a second Marth?" she felt the tears threaten her eyes again. Her foul mood hadn't dissipated, and the reminder of that man stung a bit.

"You look similar, and fight similarly," he remarked.

She sighed. Was he trying to insult her or make a joke? "Are you insulting me? I don't take kindly to-"

"Lighten up, take a joke," he scoffed. Lucina was starting to get annoyed by this man, but she also felt something odd. Something about him, some aura of darkness around him, it almost felt like Noire when her temper got the best of her. "Besides, it's not any worse than what they call me," he added under his breath.

"Pardon?"

"Seriously, be grateful Martwo is at least a bit clever. My nickname is far less witty."

"Which is?"

"Pittoo," he groaned. "Really, was that the best a goddess could do?"

Lucina was confused. "'Pittoo'? As in a second Pit?" she questioned.

"Oh, right," a switch flicked on, and a small lamp on a table nearby illuminated the area. Lucina saw the boy in the light, and realized that Pittoo was a fairly accurate name. He looked almost exactly like Pit, but with purple hair so dark it was nearly black and charcoal wings, almost like those on Cynthia's Pegasus, matching a darker outfit. "They call me Dark Pit. You can see why," he stated with a grin that reminded her almost eerily of Inigo.

"I think it works, but perhaps Dark Purple Pit or Black with some Blue Pit would work better," she retorted.

A sound that sounded somewhere between a laugh and a scoff came from him. "We're on the same page, aren't we Martwo?" he asked, smirk dropping off his face.

While she was not sure what he meant at first, the sudden, Gerome-esque sullenness behind him made her think he wasn't referring to humor. "I feel completely alone here," she admitted. "Even around people I thought I was friends with. And I miss my home and my friends more than anything."

"Luckily for me, I don't have either, even outside of this place, so I'm used to it," Dark Pit bitterly stated, his red eyes narrowing. "But other than that, I think I was right about you. So, see you around."

He flicked the switch off. "Wait, don't leave yet!" Lucina protested. "Weren't we going to think of a less silly nickname for you?" she added wryly.

Dark Pit's voice pierced the dark. "Nah, it's too late. That's what my insufferable clone is used to calling me. Besides, if I changed it, then we couldn't start a 'Depressed Clones with Stupid Nicknames' club."

Lucina felt a giggle escape her lips. "Okay, we'll work on that. Maybe we could recruit Toon?"

"Good night, Martwo," Dark Pit called. Lucina flicked the lamp back on; she needed to find her way back to her room. Somehow, she didn't think she'd be so sad when she laid back down. Dark Pit reminded her so strongly of her friends at times that it felt as if he chased away her loneliness and homesickness. But it wasn't just her friends that he was like; she also felt she'd found a kindred spirit in more ways than she could even place.

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_**AN- You know why I ship this? Because they are really quite alike; more serious characters with dry senses of humor and have ambiguous goals until they place themselves on the protagonist's side. Plus, Martwo is now my New Favorite Thing to Call Lucina™ . So, thanks for reading! –Twilight Joltik**_


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